Page 41 of My Duke, The Stranger
“My family,” she said in a whisper, her head bowed. “I only wanted… It does not matter. I will not make excuses. I will not pretend that I have that right.”
“An honorable thing,” he said. “I spoke with His Grace last evening…” She looked at him hopefully, as if he might confirm that Cassian was well and had not suffered. “I will not tell youwhat was said, but know that I will not gloat for this outcome. I am as responsible for it as?—”
“No,” she cut him off. “As I am sorry for what I have done to His Grace, I am just as sorry to have put you in this position. You did what you thought was best, and I fear I have made everything worse.”
“Perhaps,” he said with a frown as if he did not believe it. “I will not deny that the next few days, possibly weeks, will be a challenge. Nor will I forget these past two weeks either.” It was subtle, but she saw the hint of a smile behind his eyes. “It has been so long since I’ve seen His Grace so happy that I had forgotten what it looked like. For that, I thank you.”
She started. “I… I do not deserve your thanks.”
“Believe me, with all the scorn of which you are sure to find yourself on the receiving end, perhaps a little thanks should be taken in stride.” He smiled gently at her. “Farewell, Miss Isolde Whitmore. It has been a strange thing, but I feel that you might be missed.”
Isolde still felt wretched. She wanted the ground to open so that it might swallow her whole. And it would take a long time for her to forgive herself for what she had done… if she ever did. But Mr. Pemberton’s words were kind, they were honest, and they went a little way toward saving her from total damnation.
“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile. “For everything.”
He nodded once, and she turned to open the door…
“I don’t remember giving you permission to leave.” The voice was like the rumbling of thunder on the horizon, the kind that demanded attention.
Isolde froze with her hand extended. A ripple of fear ran down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat. She thought to force herself to open the door and run, but she could not escape the way Cassian’s voice wrapped around her like a hand and held her in place.
“Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton said. “I was not aware that you had woken.”
“That would require me to have slept.” His voice was distant as it had been last evening. No emotion. No warmth or anything that Isolde recognized. “Did I not ask you, Mr. Pemberton, to ensure that Isolde did not leave?”
“You did, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton said. “But I thought?—”
“You thought to disobey me,” he cut over the steward. “A common theme, of late.”
Isolde took a deep breath and finally turned.
Cassian stalked down the staircase, taking one step at a time. He stood with rigid shoulders, a puffed-out chest, and his head held high as if to force his presence on the room. But it was hiseyes that Isolde found, as cold as his voice, and utterly devoid of anything resembling a smile.
He made sure to look directly at Isolde as if he wanted her to know that she had no effect on him.
“You thought to disobey me,” he said to Isolde.
“I…” Her voice cracked. “I thought it might be for the best if… if I left.”
“To save yourself, no doubt.”
“No,” she said. “I wronged you and I… I… I did not want to cause you any more pain.”
He reached the lower landing and stopped. “You presume too much, Isolde. That anything you have said or done has any effect on me whatsoever. In fact…” His eyes burned with fire. “I find myself relieved. Your lies, while despicable, were like a chain around my ankles that I did not know how to remove. And now that they are gone, I have never felt freer.”
He was lying. He had to be lying.
Only… Isolde studied the duke. She met his eyes, searching them for a hint of the lie, the pain he surely felt. But in them, she saw nothing but emptiness. He looked at her as if she were a stray cat that had wandered into his home and now he had to decide what to do about her.
“I spent much of the night thinking about what to do with you,” he continued, still standing across the room. “And it is my decision that it will be best if you and I…” He breathed in deeply. “If we continue as we planned.”
“What?” she started. “What does that?—”
“We will marry,” he spoke over her. “The arrangements have been made, and to break them now will cause unwanted suspicion and rumor to which I will not be a party.”
“Your Grace…” Mr. Pemberton swept towards him. “Are you sure that is?—”
He held up a hand to silence his steward.
